02.06
“The wind cannot blow eternally… There will surely come a time when it stops.” – Ziko; Kiba, Episode 2
I scratch at the scabs on my wrists, tears welling up in my eyes. I can’t do it. The realization rushes through my brain. I just can’t. I glance at the bloody razor blade sitting on my desk. It’s impossible. I strain myself to prevent from vomiting on the carpet. “It’s fucking impossible!” I scream, exasperated and struggling to maintain a normal breathing pattern. In front of me sits a large stack of papers; notes from my assignment. My torture. My trial.
I glance at my writings and realize that they had become more and more illegible as time passed. Everything recorded after Episode 15 appears to have been scribbled by a four-year-old.
Zed decides it’s a good idea to fight THE STRONGEST FUCKING WARRIOR IN THE WHOLE CITY because he got his ass knocked out with one punch the first time and it will totally end differently the second time. Dumas’ axe magically turns into a shield and deflects Zed’s surprise lightsaber attack (“surprise” as in “yell really fucking loudly to make sure he notices you”).
ROYA IS ALSO AN ORPHAN SO SHE IS ATTRACTED TO ZED HOLY FUCK I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS PLOT POINT BEFORE EVER.
Zed needs “achievements” to enter the Joust, so he goes back to doing field work. I hope he realizes that real life is absolutely nothing like Harvest Moon on the Xbox.
I know that I cannot continue. It has beaten me. Kiba has won.
I put the gun to my temple. I’ve led a good life, right? I close my eyes and concentrate as hard as I possibly can. I see episodes of Umineko and Ookami Kakushi playing on some kind of endless loop. No, I haven’t. I pull the trigger.
—————
It’s been 561 days since the “accident.” That’s what they’re calling it… an accident. Never mind that I knew exactly what I was doing. How the fuck can I be expected to live in a world where I constantly experience visions of talking lion toys and androgynous maid boys with energy swords sprouting from their arms?
561 days. Five hundred and sixty-one. I know this because the guy in the cell next to mine (Julian, I think), is obsessed with dates. He rattles on about them all goddamn day, and sometimes even in his sleep. It will be Christmas soon, and the only thing I have to show for it is a slightly looser straitjacket.
The lock turns and the door creaks open. Enter Dr. Brunswick, the creepiest, grungiest excuse for a medical professional I can ever recall meeting. I hate him. I want to tear his fucking throat out. But I restrain myself. The opportunity will arise eventually. For now, I wait. I watch. “Good morning, Mr. Fogle,” he says in a raspy voice.
“Foggle,” I correct him with a tone full of annoyance. “With a ‘fog’ sound.” Why can’t anybody ever get that right?
“Of course,” he responds automatically. It’s obvious he’s not listening to me. “Today’s the day we begin your new treatment.”
“Really?” I ask. “I never agreed to that.” He immediately jams a syringe into my neck. It roughly punctures the skin and my head grows lighter as some kind of mystery substance begins to flow through my veins. I black out.
Love is such a sweet illusion (let’s come together)
I hear a faint voice off in the distance. It doesn’t speak English very well.
Can’t seem to stop my imagination (let’s come together)
…The hell? What’s going on!?
What a ridiculous situation (another matter)
And now I’m in another world. A terrible world. An anime world. What world? God only knows.
Somebody kill me.
…Please?
Originally posted on December 15, 2011